


The Answer

by legolastariel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, M/M, POV Daryl Dixon, POV First Person, Pining, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: "I'd like to ask you if Daryl could stay."An insight on Daryl's thoughts and emotions while both he and Rick await Negan's answer.





	The Answer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287213) by [TWDObsessive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive). 



> Same as twdobsessive, who has challenged me to write this little story, I'm fighting a new writer's block, caused by the frustration and anger TWD makes me feel these days. I've pretty much lost the feel for the boys once again, but tweedo is right - giving writing a try nevertheless might help to get back into the saddle.  
> So, here it comes.
> 
> It can be read alone, but to read "The question" by twdobsessive first is advisable.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13287213
> 
>  
> 
> It's still unbeta'ed, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Hope it doesn't suck entirely. :-)

_**The answer** _

 

          “I’d like to ask you if Daryl could stay.”

My tired and numbed brain tries to process what he’s just said, while his words reach me from far away, as though there was cotton wool in my ears. 

And each time they torture me with playing _Easy Street_ over and over and over, I wish there was in fact cotton wool in my ears. More than once I’ve considered stuffing some of those disgusting dog food sandwiches into them to muffle that stupid song and finally get some rest, but so far I haven’t. My hunger exceeded my need for sleep, I guess.

Still, I can barely keep my eyes open and standing upright sure is a challenge. If I dropped, would Rick try to catch me? 

He might, which is why I need to keep standing by all means. Negan meant what he said – Rick isn’t supposed to look at me or talk to me, let alone touch me or there’ll be hell to pay. 

It’s not me I worry about – it’s him. I don’t care what happens to me, but Rick has been through too much already. I won’t do or say a thing that will cause him anymore pain, that will make Negan force him to do something he won’t come back from. 

My eyes are stinging and I’m sure it’s not just the bright sunlight blinding me after having been locked up in that windowless cell for so long. And it’s not just the fatigue, either. 

I keep blinking tears away that I cannot help, while my heart is beating frantically and makes the blood swoosh in my ears. 

         _“I’d like to ask you if Daryl could stay.”_

Does he mean it? Does he really want me back? After Glenn … After what I’ve done, how can he still bear my sight at all? 

I still hear the sickening sound of that bat bashing our friend’s head in, accompanied by Maggie’s desperate screams. Those sounds will haunt me forever and I’m almost grateful for the endless repetition of _Easy Street_ that drowns them out at least for a while. Silence, time to think, time to _feel_ is the worst torture now. 

 

Rick and I – we’ve been following Negan around town for the better part of the day like a couple of hapless rats would follow the Pied Piper. Or rather – Rick has, because this isn’t the time for resistance. For the sake of our people he allows someone else to lead, while he follows behind and takes all the humiliation quietly. 

Same as me. At least on the outside. Deep down inside I will never kneel to Negan, I will never be anyone else than Daryl and I will not follow that asshole.   
Today like every other day before I’ve followed Rick, no one else. I made sure not to stumble or fall behind despite my feet being heavy as lead, so I could stay in my accustomed spot that one step behind his shoulder where he was able to hear me, _feel_ me. And I think it helped him knowing that I was there. It sure helped me.

Now that the tour around town has ended, my jaw hurts from gritting my teeth.  
That bastard has made Rick carry Lucille all the damn time. Has pushed the weapon that killed Glenn and Abraham into Rick’s hands and made him hold it hour by hour.  
I can barely imagine what a weight that must be to carry and I hate that Rick has to do the heavy lifting all by himself these days, but there is nothing I can do. 

I’ve done enough. Actually, I’ve done too much, way too much. I can’t blame Rick for not looking to me for advice and a second opinion anymore. If only I had controlled my temper. If only I hadn’t moved or said a thing. I’ve learned my lesson, so today I’ll make sure to keep my mouth shut and not do anything to endanger anyone else – Rick first of all. 

He’s strong. I don't dare meet his eyes, much that I’d love to, but I’ve watched him out of the corner of my eye. He doesn’t know it, probably thinks people talk behind his back, look down on him for kneeling, think him weak for obeying and following orders, but he stands tall and holds his head high as always. Probably not intentionally, but that’s just the way he is. Strong. It takes way more courage and strength to swallow one’s pride for the sake of others, than to openly stand up to someone. A lesson I have learned too late and Glenn had to pay the price. 

Why would Rick want me back? He doesn’t need me. No one does. All I do is cause problems these days. I’m not helping anyone and time and again I’m getting people killed.

If I had taken better care of her, Beth would still be with us. If my example hadn’t encouraged Denise to be _brave_ , she’d still be alive. And now Glenn … 

          “I don’t know. Mayyybeee Daryl can plead his case. Mayyybeee Daryl can sway me.” 

Negan looks at Rick, smug and cocky, then back to me. 

“Daryl?”

Damn bastard. I know there’s nothing I can say or do that would make him agree to me staying. I’m his property, his new project. He’s got his mind set on breaking me and he’s having way too much fun trying, so he’ll never let me go. And he’d probably rather shoot himself in the foot than grant Rick a favor.    
He knows that I know. And so does Rick. 

I wish I could dare look at Rick now, but I can’t. So I hope that he is still able to sense my thoughts and emotions the way he used to.   
Negan is just playing his perverted little games and I don’t even pay attention anymore while he  continues his threats and his bravado. I hear nothing but the crickets and the wind while I keep my eyes on the ground. I feel Rick watching me and the awareness of those mesmerizing blue eyes on me is like a caress, like the hug I’ve been longing for for such an incredibly long time now.

Is it foolish to hope? Foolish to wish for his arms to pull me close and take all the pain away? Foolish to dream of a _home_ and a family together with him? To allow feelings for that man that go beyond brotherly love? 

Hell, yeah, I love him. And it took being taken hostage and losing him for me to finally realize it, to admit it to myself. What I dread the most now is being taken back to the Sanctuary. Having to return to that dark, cold, lonely cell and maybe never seeing Rick again. I wish there was a way to tell him, to let him know what’s in my heart, so at least he _knows_ before I go. 

I feel my heart pick up its pace even more. 

Love. I never expected to ever find out what that feels like. Not the kind of love you feel for a brother or a friend, no, _that_ kind of love. I wonder if maybe … in time … Rick could have felt it, too. For me. 

         _“I’d like to ask you if Daryl could stay.”_

I hear myself gasp when suddenly it all falls into place – this isn’t a question. It’s the _answer_. The answer to all my hopes and dreams. 

Would he want me back despite what I’ve done, if he didn’t feel the same? Would he stand there motionless, clutching Lucille and _not_ use his chance to wield it, unless he was worried for me? Would there be tears and longing in his voice, audible only to those who know him well enough, when he asked Negan to let me stay?

 

As the last vehicle heads away from Alexandria with me in the back, I see Rick standing in front of the gate, watching helplessly, and I can hear his soul’s silent scream.  
Our eyes finally meet and his feet develop a mind of their own as he follows the convoy a few steps, barely able to refrain from running after me. That’s when I _know._ And I see it in his face, hear it in my soul that he knows, too. 

         _“It’s gonna be alright, Rick”,_ I send him a silent message and he stops instantly, follows the truck with his eyes, calm and confident now. 

I think I feel the echo of my love for him being returned before I lose him out of sight. I hope he knows that his request has been granted. Somehow, some way I _did_ stay. 

_ “Ain’t never gonna leave ya, Rick. Ya got ma heart, so a part a’ me is with ya, always.”  _


End file.
